


Practical Lessons

by within_a_dream



Category: The Alienist (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Time, Hand Jobs, Semi-Public Sex, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-21 18:05:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17048027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/within_a_dream/pseuds/within_a_dream
Summary: John's daydreams become a reality, thanks to Sara's willingness to do what needs to be done





	Practical Lessons

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lilybeth84](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilybeth84/gifts).



John had prepared himself to spend the duration of this investigation, however long it might last, pining uselessly for Sara Howard. She had already made her opinion of his affections quite clear, and he was not the sort of cad who would press a woman after she had rejected him. He was prepared to enjoy their friendship and collaboration (not that he could draw much enjoyment from these grisly murders). Never in his wildest dreams had he dared imagine that Sara might return his affections, much less corner him at the door of Laszlo’s makeshift headquarters and pull him down for a kiss, so he thought he could be forgiven for his dumbfounded silence in the moments after.

"What was that?" he asked, knowing he sounded a proper dunce before the words even left his mouth.

"I would have thought that you’d recognize a kiss, John."

"I would have, had it come from anyone but you."

Sara laughed. "If you’d prefer I not do it again, you only need to ask."

In response, John pulled her into another kiss, his lips chasing far ahead of his brain. In his right mind, not intoxicated with lack of sleep and grueling work and an infatuation that had only grown stronger with each passing day, he would never have longed so fiercely to hold Sara against the wall and kiss her until dawn. When he remembered that they were in public, and that he couldn’t continue with this no matter how much he wanted to, John pulled back.

"I can’t do this, Sara."

She gave him a glare so scathing it could have burned through his skin. "I want this, and I assume from your enthusiasm before you remembered yourself that you do as well. I don’t much care about my virtue, and as for my reputation, no one need know about this."

"Half of the neighborhood will know if you insist on kissing me in the doorway," John muttered. "And perhaps _I_ care about your virtue."

"You can stand on the doorstep the rest of the night being a stubborn fool, or you can stayinside with me. It’s entirely up to you." Sara straightened his collar and began to walk away.

John knew he’d be a fool to let her go, no matter how much he worried that he didn’t deserve her. He took Sara’s arm and shut the door.

Sara smiled, looking entirely too smug. "I’d hoped that’s what you’d decide."

John looked around at the dingy room, empty save them for the first time he could remember. "Please don’t take this as a rejection, but do you really mean to do this _here_?"

"My maid is an inveterate gossip, and I assumed your grandmother would object." Sara raised an eyebrow. "Unless you have a secret apartment, it’s here or the street."

The room smelled like chalk and dust. Laszlo or the Isaacsons could come back at any time. John couldn’t have cared less. He kissed her again, still half-expecting to wake up and find he'd dreamt the entire seduction. Sara nipped at his lip as she tugged his jacket off, letting it fall onto the ground. He'd go home looking like he'd rolled in the dirt if Sara intended to be so cavalier with the rest of his clothes, but John couldn't bring himself to care. Sara liberated him of his necktie and undid the buttons of his shirt, and John took the pins out of her hair.   
  
Then Sara stepped back. "You'll have to help me with my dress."   
  
Seeing her like this, cheeks flushed red and hair curling down her shoulders, John froze, overcome with fear that he'd ruin this, ruin _her_.  
  
Sara must have seen the panic in his eyes. "I’m not some naif to be ruined by the sight of your cock. And don’t you _dare_ tell me off for language, John Moore, or I’ll send you walking out of here half-naked."

He _had_ been about to absentmindedly tell her off before he realized how absurd it would be. "I wouldn’t dare."

John had enough practice to make short work of her dress, leaving it crumpled on the floor along with his jacket. He undid her corset as well, and was left speechless when she turned around, chest bared to his eyes.

Torn between the desire to take her breasts in his hands and the fear that if he touched her she would fade away like a dream, John found himself transfixed until Sara raised an eyebrow and said, "You are allowed to touch me, you know. I promise to return the favor."

The break in the silence was enough to screw John’s courage to the sticking point, and he reached out to caress her. Sara’s lips parted in the most picturesque gasp John had ever had the privilege to cause. He rolled her nipple between his fingers, enjoying the way that made her bite at her lip.

The sight of Sara’s slim fingers undoing the fastening of his trousers took John’s breath away (and drew his gaze away, finally, from her perfect breasts). "You’ll tell me if I do anything wrong?" she asked, uncharacteristically unsure of herself. "I have an academic knowledge of how this is meant to go, but I must confess a lack of practical experience."

"Nothing you do could be wrong," John gasped, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"I appreciate the sentiment, but do tell me if I’m hurting you." Sara took his cock in hand and began to stroke him, making him moan.

He wrapped his hand around hers, drawing her grip tighter. "Just like this."

Sara rubbed her thumb over the head of his cock and leaned in to kiss him, capturing his gasps under her lips. She caught on fast, reaching the perfect friction with only a few missteps and one stab of a fingernail. Then she caressed his balls with her free hand, and John had to bite back a shout. (Oh, that they were in a bedroom, so he could make as much noise as he wanted!)

He would have been embarrassed at how fast he spent himself if it weren’t for the pride in Sara’s eyes.

"You’re a natural," John said once he’d caught his breath.

Sara brought her hand to her mouth and sucked John’s spend from her fingers. The sight very nearly got him hard again, even with the way she wrinkled her nose at the taste.

"The literature led me to believe it would taste...different," she said, and John laughed.

"The literature should never be trusted." John kissed her again, unable to resist. "You can only learn through practical lessons."

Sara laughed. "And you intend to teach me?"

"I wouldn’t dare presume to teach you anything. I’ll merely provide a test subject for your experiments. Although perhaps you’d let me run an experiment of my own."

She nodded her assent. "By all means."

John drew her down onto the table and pressed a kiss to her neck. "I’ve nearly driven myself to madness wondering what sorts of sounds you’d make with my lips against your neck. So tempting, all exposed when your hair is drawn up." He sucked at the place where her neck met her shoulder, and she moaned. "I’ve wanted to do this for so long."

He slipped a hand under her bloomers, giving her a moment to object if she wanted to. Instead, she gasped, "Don’t you dare stop."

John’s fingers slid into her easily. "Lord, you’re so wet."

"You’re not the only one who’s been waiting for this." She trailed off with a gasp as he rubbed her clitoris with his other hand. "Oh, fuck!"

John could barely remember why he’d wanted to tell her off for her language earlier in the night. Her obscenities sounded as sweet as poetry, especially since he was the cause. He began to fuck her in earnest with his fingers, slow and steady.

"Faster, please!" Sara bit at her lip, raising her hips to meet his thrusts. John obliged, sucking her nipple into his mouth as he did so.

Sara screamed, then, shuddering and clenching around his fingers. John stroked her through the aftershocks and then pulled his hand away, sprawling on the table next to her.

"We’re going to do this again," she said when she’d regained her breath.

"Somewhere other than on a table," John added.

The next day, Sara wore a high-collared dress, and John could barely look at Laszlo’s papers spread out on the table without blushing. Thankfully, Laszlo either didn’t notice or was kind enough not to comment.


End file.
